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// Stealth check critically failed 
// Story: Mark of the Wyld 
// by DarkParable 
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	Pravus was soaked in blood, it's haft sickeningly slick with the life's blood of my opponents, I myself was bleeding from several wounds of my own, battered and bruised from multiple blows via those deceptively hard hooves the damn ponies sported. Let me tell you, I don't know why they really bother with weapons some times, they really don't need them with maces attached to their limbs. Holy hell they can crack ribs with a good solid blow. Be that as it may, trained guards with spears and cross bows are a bitch to deal with. Dealing with them we were though, me and my cultists... Those that were still living anyways.

Needless to say at this point, our little sneak attack plan did not go well. Did not go well at all. Personally I blame Moon Moon, but the blame rests on all of us and not taking into account a visit from royalty. No, not anyone important really, just Blueblood. While that doesn't sound like much of a reason for a well planned stealth mission to be botched, I have one more word to add. "Guards!" More accurately Blueblood's the one who added that the second Moon Moon popped up from his floor a full three hours before the proper time and interrupted his... Alone time.

Now, we were down one retarded comic relief, five cultists, and quite a few undead... Or and our banner boy, lil' Tim. Elune rest his soul (sadly she won't, his shambler's currently om nomin' on some poor guard's head and his soul is now a part of my cloak.) We'd gained some ground, but mostly we were still centered around the same house we'd all been forced to come up from. Three hours for a hard won fifty feet into town. How bloody paranoid can one little princling be to bring a whole battalion?! Didn't even get to get my claws on the fucker before he ran like a bitch too. Oh well, nothing I can do about that.

I do have to admit though, nothing made me feel alive like this. In some pain, my fur matted down by blood and the taste of pony flesh on my tongue as Pravus sang a song of rending flesh and shattering bones as I swung it. I didn't even mind the crow bow bolts jutting from my back and stomach to be honest. They didn't hamper my motion all that much and it not like I could really die from blood loss to be honest. Hard to bleed when your heart's still now isn't it? That's not to say I don't bleed mind you, its just more like a slow seeping than an actual bleeding.

"Great one! They come again!" one of my cultists whimpered, shaking in his fur at the sight arranged before us. Golden armored guards, some with weapons others with metal shod hooves, matching towards our little knot of resistance in a show of military force and precision. You know, the kind you normally see from an army expecting the opposing force to surrender or be slaughtered?

Well, that's exactly what they wanted apparently. "I am captain Shaker. You have thirty seconds to surrender or we will wipe you out here and now. Any acts of your disgusting magic will be seen as a declaration of non-compliance and we will slaughter you. Decide now and we promise you a swift execution after a fixed trial." Ever hear some guy's (or girl's) voice and immediately wanna just dick-kick 'em? Yeah... Captain Spear Shaker, as I later learned his full name to be, was one of those folks for me. Never have I ever wanted to render a stallion a mare so badly as when he opened his mouth. God's what a reedy voice.

Needless to say, I wasn't having any of his shit. Thirty seconds, pfft, that's all I needed. With a grunt I buried Pravus' head in the earth and raised my hands as I took a deep (and unnecessary) breath in preparation. "For my next trick, ghouls. Definitely definitely ghouls..." I muttered to myself as I let my powers go to work. Corpses around me stirred slowly, ponies clamoring ponderously to their hooves with slack jaws and raspy moans. More than a few had necks that hug at sickening angles, heads half severed from axe blows. There were even a couple missing a limb or their lower jaw. Does it say something about me that I found the disgusted looks on more than a few guard's faces to be funny?

Either way, not too long after the initial shock of watching the dead rise before their eyes, even if they likely had seen my other undead fighting, they charged and we were all lost to glorious combat once again.

I suppose I should go over the exact size of our forces here. One hundred guards ponies were what we had to deal with, the remaining fifty had already been dealt with over the course of this skirmish. My own forces numbered a pitiable twenty living cultists, down from the fifteen I came here with, and twenty undead, five of which I'd just made. None of us, save for the undead who didn't give a fuck, were without some kind of injury. To be honest I had the worst of it considering I fought like a damn bezerker, but most of my dogs were pretty bad off. I was pissed that I'd lost my favorite dapper dog in the first hour. Still, I could always resurrect him some time later I suppose... If I could actually do that. No real clue, hadn't tried anything save for making ghouls and shamblers when it came to necromancy.

It should be no wonder to any of you who may or may not be reading this (and if you are then maybe I should actually keep on topic eh?) that their initial charge was met with less than stellar resistance. In fact there wasn't really any resistance at all. We lost five dogs right then and there, their heads popping under the charging hooves like over-ripened melons. The undead fared better, their loud moans and such serving to demoralize a little even as they were run down a bit too. Still, stab a zombie and it doesn't really care, it just means it'll have to work harder to get at you and so it will. The satisfying sounds of chewing could be heard as more than a few guards learned this the hard way.

As for me, I was left to deal with the unicorns. After all, who else could? I don't know, but I'd hope they'd at least bring back up because they tend to need it. I let out a war howl as I charged right back at them, because fuck being logical and raising a wall of ice or something. I just wanted to kill some shit. Kill some shit I did. Out break is a wonderful ability, a small gesture and suddenly one very sick unicorn who didn't think to properly protect himself from magic. He faltered, shivering and retching as I came upon them with Pravus held high. One less unicorn, more blood for my axe.

Call me stupid, because I kinda am at times, but is it not rude to go shooting magic missiles off at some one when they're busy with killing something? Either way, those damn things hurt. They hurt more when about nine different mages go casting them at you. For those wondering, a cloak made of souls, even if its nice and warm when it needs to be, is still kinda incorporeal. No protection what so ever, so I caught a lot of pain and magic right in the back. Stumbling I fell to my knees, eye sight flickering a bit as I growled defiantly. Defiance or not, I could do nothing as a hoof came crashing down on my skull and the world went black.

When I came to I was in chains, muzzled, and caged. Pravus laid near my bound hands however. Didn't matter, I couldn't do shit really because when I say chained, I mean mage chains. By mage chains, I mean held immobile by magic. I wasn't going anywhere save where they wanted me to be... Likely a chopping block. Didn't matter, I'd failed completely. My first real battle and I rolled a damn one... Critical fail.